


All the Difference

by seperis



Series: Two Paths [5]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-16
Updated: 2003-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:16:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3241040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seperis/pseuds/seperis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You--started a wall on fire?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Difference

He hasn't seen this in reality for over a year---the long stretch of a half-naked, golden body, the shifting muscles of Clark's back. Too-long hair a mess, tangling so easily, flushed and sweating and making these impossibly hot sounds. Big hands brace himself on the couch, hovering, careful to keep his weight on his knees.

Missy, Lex thinks a little clinically, should appreciate that.

She sees him first, but he's been standing here five minutes, watching Clark work his way steadily through some of the most concentrated necking Lex has ever witnessed, and he's seen a *lot*. Like Clark's doing it for a grade, a performance, trying to get everything perfect, from the drape of Missy's body under him to the methodical patterns of touching her--mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone, the outer curve of her breast, read any romance novel in the world and it's all there, step by step. Her shirt's pulled neatly up, quasi-virginal lace like a mockery of purity, and if there's anything that could make this moment more disturbing, it's the fact that Clark hasn't gotten around to noticing that he's standing there.

He's never had the genuine opportunity to observe Clark without being seen. Clark always *knows*, somehow. Always.

Missy's manicured nails dig in to Clark's back, red lines that disappear instantly, and Lex clenches his teeth at Clark's delayed reaction, lifting his head, looking down at her. Her eyes are huge.

"Um. David. *David*. Mr. Luthor's here."

And that easy grace is *gone*. Tension, stiffening every exposed muscle, before Clark shifts down on the couch and Missy sits up, belatedly jerking her shirt back into place. Modesty. How cute. 

"Don't let me interrupt," Lex murmurs, crossing the room. There's a vague not-complete-reality about this moment--Clark didn't bring this girl in the house, didn't offer her drinks, didn't make out with her on the couch, because Clark doesn't *do* that. But there are two brandy glasses on the coffee table, one still half-filled, the decanter is set beside them, a girl sprawled out with traces of Clark's mouth on her throat and mouth, and Jesus, she has a hickey.

"Lex." Clark does slightly defiant yet casual surprise very, very well. One long arm dips to the floor, picking up the discarded t-shirt. "I didn't think you'd be home this early."

"So I see." Bending, Lex retrieves the decanter. "Missy, it's getting late."

"Right. Um. Yeah." She pushes back dark hair, getting to her feet a little awkwardly, and Lex notes that Clark wasn't as careful as he could have been. She almost backs up when Lex steps toward her, moving easily into her personal space, but Clark doesn't do anything but smile.

Carefully, Lex flicks her hair back over her shoulder, covering her throat.

"You're going to have a hell of a time explaining that," Lex says mildy. "Good night, Missy."

The flush is almost enough to make him like her.

"Night, Mr. Luthor. David."

"I'll walk you to your car." Standing up, he faces Lex for a moment, the lazy smile pasted in place. 

"Always the gentleman, David." And Clark can play teenage rebel as much as he wants, but Lex lived it, and there are some things you have to *be* to do perfectly. The second stretches, something flickering in the green eyes, before Clark turns away, pulling his shirt over his head and following Missy to the door.

The slam of the screen and sudden rise of voices is enough to make Lex take a drink straight from the decanter. Picking up the empty glass, he walks toward the kitchen, wondering if anything was left for dinner or it's take-out again--he really needs to consider hiring a full time cook.

Sitting at the counter, Lex glances through the mail, automatically sorting out the bills, mentally calculating the household budget. It's never been so low in his life, even with the new cars. Frankly, it's frightening.

Definitely a cook. He'll have to think of a way to arrange it.

"That was embarrassing."

And the teenager returns. Swiveling on the stool, Lex watches Clark cross the tiles, bare feet soundless as a cat. Hair still a mess.

"You need a haircut."

"Have you been watching parenting TV or something?" Going to the refrigerator, Clark looks for the milk. Normal plastic gallon containers, but hell, that doesn't stop Clark from chugging straight from the bottle. And finishing most of it.

Lex is wondering if Clark's milk fixation may be the make or break in his finances in the future. Expensive cars, clothes, elaborate extortion schemes, they all have *nothing* on the appetite of this particular boy. A boy, by the way, still hot from foreplay and showing it from the flush on his face to the outline in his too-tight jeans.

Lex doesn't bother with the glass. Clark won't see.

"No, I've been thinking about the reason we're here, in case you've forgotten."

The pause lasts only seconds--long enough for Lex to at least get the satisfaction of knowing it makes a direct hit.

"Lex--"

"What were the rules? I made them pretty simple, I think. No one in the house."

"She's my girlfriend--"

"I'm used to having a household, Clark." And God, does he miss that every single time he has to do dishes. "You may notice I don't have that now. Why?"

"Because it's easier to keep a secret with fewer people. Wow, it's Luthor Life Lessons time. Should I take notes?" Knocking the refrigerator shut with his heel, Clark turns around, leaning against it, arms crossed.

Jesus, did *he* act like this at sixteen? Ah, no, Lex, he's seventeen now. Right, you were fucking your way through any available sewer at seventeen. Keep this in perspective. There's no possible moral high ground here. Even if he wanted to make those arguments.

"And you bring her here--"

"It was just the couch! Christ, Lex, I didn't take her on a tour or tell her, hey, guess what, you know that alien they want? I'm him, isn't *that* cool. Now can I fuck you?" 

Fuck. 

Setting the decanter down carefully, he breathes in. Out. Calm. How do you deal--

"I have a reputation."

The low voice makes Lex jerk. Yes, David does.

"We agreed to who I'd be here. There's a record to prove it. Not doing anything with her would not have exactly supported that, now would it?"

Wow. Lex is impressed. That's the most convincing argument for underage sex that he's ever heard, and he's used some good ones himself.

"Your devotion to duty is admirable." His voice sounds unusually sharp. Like his father. "That's why you have a car and a barn."

"Lex." A second passes--a long one, and finally, Lex looks up. Clark looks slightly more familiar. Less--unreal. Grounding, maybe, that he's shoving his hands in his pockets and that his hair keeps getting in his eyes when he stares at the floor. "This isn't Smallville. I'm not the town dork. They think--they think--"

Clark stops, taking a breath, a stain of color cutting into both cheeks.

"You like it." That hadn't occurred to him for some reason. Clark crosses the floor, settling on the stool across from him, hands folded awkwardly on the table.

"Kinda." A shrug that could mean anything. "Compensation for losing my life, I guess." Lex wonders if his flinch is visible, but Clark goes on without pausing. "I mean--they ask me to tell them about, you know, what I did before, and I have to--I don't have another model for this." The green eyes fix on Lex, meaning unmistakable.

"You're using me." Not a surprise, or it shouldn't be.

"Pretty much, yeah." Clark takes a breath, letting it out slowly. "It's--weird. I mean--I mean, it's kinda fun, sometimes. They *listen* to me. They think--they think I've done all this stuff and they want to be my friend. Yeah, I know, high school, whatever, but this is pretty much my life, you know? Missy, Steve, everyone, and they--they expect me to live up to it."

"I understand that."

"Missy--Missy's parents are going to call you about dinner this week. Um. To get to know me, since, you know, me and Missy are dating. I think. Her dad's gonna talk to you about it tomorrow."

Because obviously, this is hell. So it's something of a shock that Lex finds himself smiling quite normally, filling his glass without a tremor, and taking a sip.

"That's a good idea." And he even *sounds* normal. 

"You--sure?" There's something in his voice that forces Lex to look up, a fleeting expression that disappears far too fast to read.

"Yeah." Another breath, and Lex sets the glass down. "You have condoms?"

And there. A blush. The very epitome of Clark-blushes, spreading across his cheeks and up into his hairline, shocked eyes and half-open mouth, and this boy Lex recognizes. Something in him relaxes at the sight.

"Lex--"

"Do you?"

Green eyes dart back down to the floor, staring like he's hoping for a hole to swallow him at any moment.

"Yeah. Had to." Clark looks at the counter, obviously hoping Lex will let this go. In some sick, strange part of his head, Lex is enjoying this. David's not here, Clark is, and Clark he can deal with. 

Taking a sip of brandy, Lex watches Clark slump in the stool. "Did your parents go over sex with you or is that too much to hope for in Kansas?"

Gorgeous blush and a pure-Clark look of aggravation. "Jesus, Lex! Of course they did!"

"Is Missy on the pill?" He shouldn't be enjoying this. He really shouldn't. Clark slumps further, managing to seem somehow smaller, even younger, like the fifteen year old kid he first met.

"She--told me today. Yeah."

Wow. Lex wonders suddenly if he'd come home twenty minutes later, exactly what he would have found on their couch. It's--not a line of speculation he thinks he should follow. "Are you ready for this?" But what healthy sixteen-seventeen year old boy *isn't*?

Clark's hands, flat on the counter, tighten into fists. "I'm a normal guy, right?"

Define normal. Lex takes another drink of brandy. "Clark, you don't have to go through with it--"

"I want to." Straightening, Lex watches Clark pull himself together. It's a painfully slow process, but smoother than it used to be. One day soon, Lex isn't sure he'll be able to see the demarcation line between Clark and David. One day, there might not even *be* one. Clark's good at lying and is getting better every day, but that's not the part Lex finds himself thinking about.

He wonders if one day, it'll stop being a lie. 

"Do you--" But Lex stops. As friends, he would have teased Clark about experience and first-times, but he's not--that anymore. He's a guardian and a protector and maybe a confidant, but while sex in the abstract is okay, sex in the concrete…. "Okay."

"I know what I'm doing," Clark says, and maybe telepathy is part of Clark's powers that he hasn't gotten around to telling Lex about. "I'm not--not completely inexperienced."

"Really?" Lex doubts that, and the flush comes back, but it's not--Clarkish. Elbow resting casually on the counter, Clark looks at him from under his bangs, a sleepy look of amusement curving his face into someone completely unfamiliar.

"Really, Lex." Lowered voice, and Lex finds himself leaning forward to hear, and God, did Lex teach him tactics like this? "I did some reading. Internet."

"Nothing replaces practical experience."

Clark smiles, slow and practiced. It's deliberate, Lex knows it, but it doesn't stop his body responding to it, instant arousal and a flush of embarrassed anger. "Live action viewing count?"

Jesus. Forcing himself to relax, Lex picks up the glass, pleased to see his hand isn't shaking. "If you take your tips from pornography…."

"Only the very best," Clark says lazily, then straightens, just as slowly, just as deliberately. "Are we done? I want to go check on the horses before dinner."

Taking a breath, Lex lets it out. "Yes."

The smile flashes, bright, almost-familiar, almost-Clark. "Thanks. See you in an hour."

* * *

So this is why Jonathan looked like he was ready for a stroke at any given moment. 

Lex hears himself hissing strings of words that make no sense in any context--maybe just to keep him calm, keep him from running off the road, destroying something, and it's good it's not lunch hour because Lex doesn't give a shit about pedestrian rights. One hundred ten when he hits the city limits and he doesn't even look at the brake until the school rises up, massive stone and gaudy green and yellow school colors, smoke curling upward like someone's forgotten campfire.

The students of Marshal High School are a sea of blank, wide-eyed faces, barely turning to look when a Porsche stops practically inches away, but then, they have Clark--*David*--driving whatever's gassed up in the garage every day. Out the door, keys stuffed into his coat pocket, vaguely aware that beneath his pants he put on last night's unmatching socks. Something stupid to take up front residence in his mind when someone in uniform tries to stop him.

"David," Lex says, and it's a hair away from saying the wrong name. David. Like an unfamiliar taste slicking the back of his tongue, and he searches the masses of students. Clark's not anywhere, but he catches a glimpse of Missy, red eyes and blindly staring at the building as if she expects a miracle.

He forgets the useless officer, leaving the man gaping at empty air. And self-preservation may not usually be a teen characteristic, but they're moving out of his way like he carries the plague, and he catches Missy's wrist in one hand, pulling her around so the brown eyes turn on him.

"Missy. Where's--David?" He won't slip now, even though his tongue feels like wool and his entire body's vibrating. He's scaring her. At this point, he's scaring himself.

"David." She mouths it back at him, no comprehension, and he can't slap sixteen year old girls, he can't, but God, he wants to. The palm beneath his glove itches, but he contents himself with squeezing, bone and soft flesh ground together until she gasps, refocusing on him with something close to awareness. "You--stop. You're--"

"Where's David?" This time, understanding flashes, and her eyes flicker to the school. An entire year of life passes before Lex's eyes--Clark, hero to the end, and of course they had the Talk about that, but had he really thought Clark would listen? Had he? And if he hadn't, why the *fuck* hadn't he backed it up with--something?

Something? An amused part of his mind reels off a list of possible deterrents. What, take away his driving privileges? Ground him, Lex? 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, *fuck*.

"What happened?" Not that he really cares. 

"A--a fire broke out." She gulps hard. "David--he made us get out and tried to put it out. I think--"

Her voice trails off, mouth shutting tight in shock, and Lex turns around too fast. Short, round little man in a cheap suit with a nightmarish tie. Lex's inner fashion critic is nauseated.

Fucking *focus*, Lex.

"Mr. Luthor?"

"Where's David?"

A pudgy hand drops heavily on his arm, and Lex pulls away from Missy, staring down at the man. 

"He's fine, Mr. Luthor." The sharp eyes roam over him--when enrolling Clark at school, Lex had dealt with the superintendent, a man who ran for office regularly and understood what Luthor money meant for such things as election campaigns. Few questions. This man, however--Lex shook off the hand as tactfully as possible. "He's answering some questions--"

"Should he need to be?" Fuck this, fuck Clark's hero complex, and fuck this round little man looking at him like a pedophile at a kindergarten playground. "I want to see him. Now."

"Mr. Luthor--"

"David is a child and cannot be questioned outside the presence of legal guardian by any official of this town and you know it." The words roll off Lex's tongue--amazing what you learn when you research the perks of guardianship. "I want to see him *now*, Mr. Anderson."

The conflict's clear, and Lex doesn’t feel like waiting around to see how fast it resolves. Moving by him, Lex ducks under the yellow tape already establishing a perimeter around the building, making for the front door. Pushing it open, his first view is a hall sprinkled with papers and books like a hurricane just hit, and then five bodies--one most definitely Clark.

Jesus, Clark--

"Lex." One syllable, one word, and Lex has never heard his name uttered like an answered prayer. Clark pushes by a tall figure in fireman's gear, a few short steps before he comes to a hesitant stop. "I--"

"Mr. Luthor." Superintendent who should have fucking known better. Lex takes a breath, taking the offered hand with a surprising level of calm. How the fuck did Jonathan or Martha deal with this on a weekly basis? "I'm glad you're here." 

One fire marshall by insignia, one superintendent, and three police officers. This doesn’t look good. Quickly, Lex reviews the juvenile record sealed in Metropolis. No, arson was never on that list. Thank God.

"Is there a reason why David's being questioned?" First instinct is to pack Clark into the car and start driving until they end up somewhere else. First instinct, of course, is stupid, and Lex likes to think he usually isn't stupid. 

"He's not being questioned," the superintendent answers smoothly, a flickering glance at the fire marshall quelling the rising protest Lex can see form in the narrowed eyes. "They're hoping that David would have seen what caused the explosion--"

"Explosion." And he's at parroting, flickering a gaze at Clark. Who could not look more guilty and not be confessing.

"In the science lab." The fire marshall clears his throat, obviously, warningly. "We're still looking into it, of course--"

"If there's some problem, you can contact my lawyer." Get Clark home. Yell at him for the next hour or so. Get drunk. Okay, maybe no drinking, but it's a tempting thought. 

"Mr. Luthor--" Placation. Not the fuck now.

"From what I understand, David helped evacuate students from the school." Missy had better have been fucking accurate. "David, come on. I assume school is dismissed for the rest of the day while you investigate?" Lex doesn't give them time to answer. "Call if you find something. David." Don't touch him, just turn and leave before he does something stupid, like protesting innocence before an accusation is made. He can hear Clark fall into step behind him, quiet and withdrawn.

Emerging outside, Lex can feel the attention of the student body--and no few parents as well. This can't be good. Attention, so much attention, and Lex sucks in a breath for calm, resisting the urge to grab Clark's arm and pull him along behind. Straight through the crowd like no one's there, a trick Lex picked up that works for any and all occasions.

Luckily, Clark doesn't even bother trying to protest, though his new teen image of indolent rebel's probably going to suffer for the lack. He'll think of something, Lex is sure.

The silence continues until they're out of town, and Lex begins to feel the aftereffects of an adrenaline rush. Headache, cramping stomach, and a violent, violent need for something eighty proof.

"What happened?" He thinks he sounds calm.

The hesitation is obvious, and Lex flickers a glance at the boy curled up in the seat beside him, staring out the windshield like he's reading his future and not liking it much. No fucking joke.

"Something--happened."

"No shit, Clark." David. Clark, as far as he knows, doesn’t start fires for kicks. Something twists in Lex's stomach, vivid imagery from the night before playing before his mind's eye before he pushes it aside. Focus. "What. Happened."

"I--I was talking to Missy. Um. Before the teacher came in."

Talking. Another glance confirms a heavy flush, from hairline into the collar of his shirt. What the *fuck*….

"And?"

"I started a fire on the wall. Behind her. Missy. By--by looking at it." 

Lex stares at the speedometer until the numbers start to make sense--he's topping out two hundred and that can't be good. Making a conscious effort, he lets the car slow down naturally, downshifting as they hairpin turn into the driveway, and Lex doesn't think he breathes again until they get out.

Clark's looking less David by the moment--the flush helps amazingly, and so does the slouch. Lex can handle Clark. Taking a deep breath, Lex circles the car, opening the garage door, and walks across the yard, three steps into the kitchen. Breathe, Lex. Just breathe.

Inside, relative privacy, safety, and Lex sucks in a slow, calming breath. Brandy, vodka, rum, tequila. Any and all would do, but he pushes the thought aside, leaning into the counter as Clark wanders into the center of the floor, for all the world like a recalcitrant kid who knows he's fucked up big time.

Breathe, Lex. Just breathe.

"You--started a wall on fire?" Maybe saying it often enough will make it more reasonable.

"I didn't--" Clark stops, sucking in a breath, flush fading. "I just--I mean, I just looked over her shoulder, and my eyes started to hurt and then--there was a fire." Clark gives him a look from beneath his lashes. "Lex, I swear, this is new."

And what was that old saying? May you live in interesting times? Some Chinese scholar with a serious hard on for pleasant sounding curses. Another breath, more careful than the first.

"It just happened, Lex." And Clark sounds desperate now.

"Okay." He can be calm about this. This is--completely something they can deal with. First off, pay off whoever does the investigation at the school. "So you can--make things start on fire." This is so ridiculous. No one had conversations like this. Except the Kents, of course. And now him. "So it just--happened. New power." So very reasonable.

"Uh, yeah. Pretty much." And did Clark sound--embarrassed? Flickering his gaze up, Lex fixes Clark with a careful look. The flush is back, harder than ever.

"What--" Lex wonders how to frame the question. If there even *is* a question. "How did it happen?"

The flush deepens, and Clark is--very Clark. Very, very Clark, and for some reason, Lex relaxes, falling into his skin again with something blissfully close to relief. He can't help the smirk that's tugging at the corner of his mouth--God, of all things, but this….

"I was--thinking."

Thinking? "About what?"

Clark ducks his head, staring at the floor as if hoping he'll be able to light it on fire and get out of this conversation. Perfectly possible, too, and Lex feels his smirk grow, becoming a smile. "About--um. Stuff."

"Stuff?" Something is nudging at the edges of Lex's mind, trying to tell him that there's an obvious answer to this one, but he's more interested in hearing Clark's version.

"Sex."

Jesus. Lex fixes his eyes on the counter. Alien puberty. Of course this had to happen now. Of course it would happen at the worst possible time in the worst possible way. And of course, of course, Lex's defining curiosity at the moment isn't *how interesting and strange a power* but rather *who were you thinking about*?

Missy. If she's not putting out yet, she will be soon, and Lex wonders with some amusement how Clark will handle the moment. Hopefully he won't run for cover.

"What will they find when they investigate?" Lex asks, turning to the refrigerator. Water's no substitute for alcohol, but at least it will give his hands something to do. They ache from being clenched so long. "Did you look to see where you hit?"

"I--I x-rayed. Near some wires or something." Clark's eyes are fixed on the floor.

"Electrical short." So far so good. "Any interesting patterns?"

"It--the fire did some weird damage, but it doesn't look like--I mean, like someone started it deliberately or anything," Clark answers, head still down. Taking pity, Lex gets another bottle of water, spinning it across the counter, and Clark catches it with those blindingly fast, fascinating reflexes. "Lex, I--" The dark eyes fix on Lex, and it's pure Clark, desperate and reaching out, catching his sleeve with a big hand. "Lex, I--I can't let--it could have been a person. It could have been Missy, or the teacher. Or--" Clark chokes it off. "I don't know what--"

"We'll work on it. How long were you in the fire before they got you out?"

Clark frowns but replies. "They asked me about smoke inhalation…."

Bingo. "You have your excuse not to go back. I'll call and get you out for the rest of the week. We'll work on this." Sighing, Lex leans into the counter. "My father will be here next week. I don't think I need to tell you what a very bad idea it is--"

"Your father doesn't--bring that reaction."

And there's a nightmare waiting to happen. Lex shivers at the idea and takes a drink of water. Somehow, it doesn't help. "We'll figure it out, Clark." 

Right. This should be fun.


End file.
